Vegas: Conquest
by the morrighan
Summary: The Wraith have invaded Earth and only Detective John Sheppard and his team can stand against them.
1. Chapter 1

Vegas: Conquest

"_Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,"_

**1 year 3 months after invasion.**

Colonel John Sheppard, formerly Detective John Sheppard was furious. Anger was a dangerous glare in his green eyes. It created hard lines on his handsome face. It ran through every tense muscle of his weary body, reverberating down to his boots as he stomped through Facility 6. People quickly made way for him, averting their gazes, their greetings turning to mere mumbles as John ignored them all.

Nothing was going to deter him from his objective. Nothing.

Until the sound of a baby crying caught him up short.

Without slowing his stride he swerved and made his way down the stairs, following the loud wailing of what could only be coming from his son. John liked to think that he could identify his son's voice from any other child's, but Moira always pointed out that since John junior was the only baby at the facility it really wasn't a test of John's perspicacity.

John had ignored her sarcasm and insisted he could pick his son out of a nursery full of crying infants if the chance ever arose.

He quickly descended another flight of stairs as the crying became louder and more insistent. Clearly John junior was upset about something and letting his little lungs tell the entire facility all about it. He entered one of the biology labs and paused.

John Sheppard Junior was seated in his stroller, wailing like a banshee. Little arms flailing in the air. Pudgy face turning red. Big blue eyes full of tears that were streaming down his cheeks. His dark hair was as wild as his father's. Seeing his father the baby paused in his distressful ranting. Hiccuped. Smiled. "Gaga gaga gaga," he identified. Then, as if remembering he had been unhappy he began to cry again, reaching out for his father.

John smiled. "Hey, buddy, what's wrong?" John lifted the infant to his arms, gently bouncing him and kissing the rosy, wet face. "Ssh, ssh, daddy's here now. Where's mommy? Mommy wouldn't leave you for long, would she? Easy, buddy, it's all right. Moira!" he called, turning to view the empty threshold. The empty lab.

The baby clung to his father, quieting at last now that comfort and love and security had been restored to him. He hiccupped and John patted the infant's back, fingers caressing the pale blue fabric of the baby's sleeper. In absolute wonder the baby touched his father's face, cooing softly as the rough hair of John's beard was new and strange to his little fingers.

John smiled. "Yeah, buddy, I need a shave but first let's find your mother."

Moira Sheppard stared in shock, her hand over her mouth to prevent either a scream or a flurry of invectives from escaping her lips. She backed up and hit the wall behind her. The solidity was reassuring. She stared at the deformed, mutilated body even as it weakly twitched, one hand clawing the floor towards her feet. "How…how…it's impossible!"

Carson Beckett shook his head, expression grim, guilty. "The electrical currents must have triggered the regenerative powers to astonishing levels…plus the, the feeding. It shouldn't be alive by any count, but it is."

"How long? How long have you kept this horrible secret? My God! Ever since, ever since I was, I was cured?" she answered her own question, brown eyes widening in shock. "You kept that, that thing in the same facility as my child? You…John. John knew, didn't he? Didn't he?" she demanded, voice rising in anger.

"Yes, love. We needed everything we could get from it, and since it is still alive we have been able to access parts of its brain having to do with communications and with an interface we have established a baseline for their language and their—"

"Don't care! I don't care if you taught it to tap dance! You kept that thing in the same facility as my child! The same thing that nearly killed him! How could you?" She sidestepped round the creature, keeping her back to the safety of the wall.

"It was necessary for research, Moira, I swear! And it wasn't supposed to be for this long! But it won't die!"

"It will die, Carson! You just want to keep…" She paused. Silence filled her ears. "Johnny. Johnny!" She ran out of the room and down the hallway, skidding to a halt as she almost ran into John. "Johnny!" The baby gurgled happily, reaching out for her. "Give me my baby!" she ordered, glaring at her husband. Her surprise and elation at his safe return was quickly replaced by ire over what he had condoned. Over what he had never told her.

Over the still living remains of Todd the Wraith.

John raised a brow at her tone, but handed over the baby. Moira cuddled him close, kissing him. The baby cooed, delighted at the attention, but his little brow furrowed and he started to fuss, staring past her down the hallway as if he could see what lay on the floor. "Moira?"

"You fucking bastard!" she flared, feeling tears. She stormed past him, baby in her arms.

John turned to watch her. "Moira? What the hell is that about? Moira! Moira!" he shouted, but she ignored him, disappearing into the lab. The baby was crying again. John sighed, but whirled hearing a cough. "Carson, what the…oh shit," he realized, seeing the doctor's expression.

"Afraid so, John. I couldn't lie to her when she stumbled upon me moving it. It's still alive, John."

"What? How?" John asked, in genuine surprise.

"Hell if I know. It seems to be affecting the baby too…or rather the baby is sensitive to it in some unfathomable way. I'll go secure it. See to Moira and your son." Carson headed for the room where the Wraith was sprawled, but he glanced over his shoulder at the other man. "Oh, and welcome back, John."

Moira was furious, shocked. She was trying to dampen it all down as she sat on the bed, gently rocking her son as he greedily fed from a bottle but her angry gaze devoured the sparse furnishings in the nursery with fiery indignation. Her stomach twisted, recalling the thing on the floor that had once been Todd the Wraith. Now it was an amalgamation of parts that somehow were still alive, still viable. Still a threat to her son.

She heard John's distinctive steps as his boots thudded on the floor. She watched him enter the nursery, pausing on the threshold, hands raised in surrender as he took in her ire. "Well?" she snapped. She eyed the baby as he gurgled, little hands grasping the bottle. His big blue eyes were serene as he stared up at his mother. At least all was right in his world now.

John watched his wife and son a moment, feeling a wash of emotion that smothered his earlier anger. Only smothered it, not erasing it. But the anger had nothing to do with her. He licked his lips, lounged in the doorway. "Sorry."

"That's it? Sorry? That's all you have to fucking say to me?" she asked, brown eyes full of fury as she met his gaze.

John felt his cock stir at her anger. He felt a sexual anticipation at the argument to come. It wasn't the only thing coming and he briefly smirked as his body reacted to her. "I—"

"Don't even think of sex right now, John, because believe me, you're not getting any!" Moira had seen his lewd interest. "Well?" she repeated.

"Sorry," he rejoined. Scowled. "I didn't think it would still be alive after all of the—"

"No! You never told me! You kept that damn thing here with us, with your son and never bothered to tell me! That thing almost killed your son, John! It almost killed me! How could you? How could you?" she flared, but calmed as the baby started to fuss. She took the bottle from him and lifted him to her shoulder to burp him.

"If I thought either of you were in any danger, believe me, I would have gotten rid of it STAT."

"Would you have?"

"Moira! Of course! Don't be stupid!"

"Stupid? Oh, I'm stupid now? You're the one who kept that thing in the same building as your son!" she argued, pacing now as she burped the infant.

John watched her circle, circle. "You know what I mean, Moy! I never—"

"Never thought for a moment how it would affect me or your son?"

"Yes! No! Yes, and that's why I didn't tell you! Surely you can see the scientific value of having that thing with us! To experiment with so Carson can develop an effective virus or bioweapon to kill them! To find a way to infiltrate their communications! To find a way to exploit any weakness they have! To develop a toxic—"

"Oh can it, John! You don't get it, do you?" She stopped, glaring at him as the baby clutched at her shoulder, burping. "He can sense that thing! Your son can sense the Wraith!"


	2. Chapter 2

Vegas: Conquest2

"_Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,"_

**3 weeks after invasion.**

The emergency claxon shrieks, cutting the air with its high-pitched sound. It is loud. It is grating. It is effective, causing people to rush if only to escape its painful tones screaming in their ears. In the middle of the chaos stands Rodney McKay. He has one hand to a headset over his ear, the other engaging the keyboard of a computer. His dark suit is wrinkled. His appearance is slovenly, rakish, a day's growth of beard fuzzing his jaw and chin but he has more immediate concerns than cleanliness.

"Evacuate remaining ground personnel," he intones into a microphone, and his voice is carried throughout the facility over the blaring claxon. "Caldwell, do you read? I am going to set the self-destruct so get your people clear!"

The ground rumbles high above him, shaking the ceiling tiles and briefly interrupting the emergency claxon. But it is not another earthquake this time.

This time it is a bombardment.

Missiles are hitting the desert facility, destroying the outer buildings while lasers cut away at the bunkers buried underneath. It is only a matter of time before the guts of the facility are exposed and vulnerable. The whine of lasers and the rat-a-tat-tat of bullets ping the air in a violent concert of noise.

"McKay! Let's go now!" Richard Woolsey runs into the room, briefcase in one hand as if he was late for a trial. "Everything's moved out and we are the last to go! Caldwell's engaging the enemy but we have to go now!" Sweat is beading on his bald head and the light shines on the lenses of his glasses.

"Go. I'm just deleting the last of the files before I set the self-destruct," Rodney answers, moving to another monitor and issuing commands through his fingertips.

Abruptly the only sound is Rodney typing. Even the claxon has gone silent. The sounds of bombardment have ceased, and both men uneasily glance up at the ceiling.

"That can't be good," Richard mutters, shifting the briefcase to his other hand.

"Rodney!" Moira runs into the room, past a stunned Richard.

"Moira? What the hell are you still doing here?" Rodney asks, dismayed to see the woman. "You should have been with the first wave of evacuees!"

"I had to finish deleting the medical files while Carson went with the medical transports," she explains, glancing round the room. "Any word from John?"

"No. He's in the air somewhere."

"Let's go now!" Richard doesn't wait for an answer. He quickly exits the room.

Rodney turns back to the computer. "I'm setting the self-destruct for ten minutes. That should give us plenty of time to get out of here and to get away."

A tremendous boom shakes the underground facility. It is so strong that a computer console is tipped over and smashes to the floor. The emergency claxon begins to scream again. Lights are flashing, strobe points of almost blinding intensity. Dirt showers from the cracks in the walls.

"The enemy has infiltrated the complex. The enemy has infiltrated the complex," announces a pleasant, female voice.

"Shit." Moira grabs Rodney's arm as he types and types, as if he can't bear to leave the computer behind. "That's it, Rodney. We have to get out of here now."

Rodney nods. He straightens. Tap his headset. "Caldwell, copy? Self-destruct is set for ten. Get clear! Maybe we can take a few Wraith with it." He looks at Moira. "Let's go."

"The Wraith have entered the base. The Wraith have entered the base. Evasive maneuvers enacted," announces the calm female voice.

Moira shakes her head, quickly following Rodney as he leads her down the hallway and towards a flight of stairs.

Only to find the stairwell is buried under tons of rubble and dirt.

John is flying. Despite the dire situation he feels exhilarated, he feels alive and energized, finding himself back in the cockpit of a fighter jet. Nevertheless the expression on his handsome face is grim as he jukes and jigs to avoid enemy fire. "This is Red Leader," he says, a quick smile coming and going at the title, "on my mark get ready to tuck and roll. Mark."

The fighter squadron abruptly veers in unison, then rolls over in the air, straightens and speeds under a burst of laser fire that would have annihilated them. The synchronization appears effortless, the black machines like bees swarming and diving and then stinging the enemy ships in their wake with terrific force.

"Plow the field!" John orders as he engages his own weaponry. A flurry of missiles stings the enemy Darts. Strafing fire eliminates many but not enough as they keep coming.

And coming.

Endless streams of space ships fly from the Hive ship lurking high above, vomiting out fighters as if the supply would never end. The ships are more advanced than anything the Earth has ever seen. The weapons are high tech and make the Earth weapons appear like sticks and stones. But even sticks and stones can be effective if utilized properly.

"Red Two, flank right. One more pass and let's give 'em a chase," John orders. His voice sounds oddly hollow in the helmet and he smiles, tempted to lower his tone to sound like Darth Vader. He smirks, thinking of Moira and how she would approve and get the joke.

"Acknowledged, Red Leader," Evan states, guiding his own squadron to follow after John's. Like his commanding officer he is also thrilled to be back in the cockpit, albeit he wishes the circumstances weren't involving an alien invasion of Earth.

He blinks against the flashes of laser fire, of missiles exploding enemy fighters in a cloud of debris and junk. He feels he is in a science-fiction movie, but this is real life and the point is brought home to him as one of his wing mates is suddenly pulverized by the enemy. Grimly he fires in retaliation then joins what is left of the squad to fly over the desert and lure the Darts away from viable targets.

The planes are banking and turning at incredible speeds, but the Darts can easily keep up with them. What the Wraith can't do is predict the unpredictable human behavior as the fighter jets elude them with clever twists and dives. They are unused to such a determined and advanced society, but they can quickly adapt and learn.

"Canyon. In and out, then home to roost," John orders, flying straight downwards as if on a suicide run. But he pulls up at the last second and skims the canyon's walls safely. His pursuers are not so lucky and smash against the rocks with a terrific explosion that turns the air bright and then dark. "Use the Force, John," he mutters as a proximity alarm pings.

A laser clips his wing and he veers but balances and abruptly races straight upwards, firing at his attacker and almost crashing into the Dart. He is so close he can see the Wraith pilot's ugly face, full of surprise, then anger. Then nothing as the Dart explodes. John rises higher and higher, pinned almost painfully to his seat by the tremendous g-forces of the machine. He slows, levels out and swings round to see most of his squadron intact.

A debris field litters the canyon and the few Darts left are beating a hasty retreat.

"Red Leader? Pursue?" Evan asks, checking his instruments.

"Negative, Red Two. Home to roost."


	3. Chapter 3

Vegas: Conquest3

"_To the last syllable of recorded time;"_

Moira settled the baby in his crib. She bestowed soft kisses on his rosy face. She stroked his rosy cheek, and then his little arm as he cooed, entranced by his mother. His little hands grasped her long, silky hair and she gently pried his fingers open to free it. She smiled as he giggled, then yawned. "Easy, darling. Go to sleep now like a good boy. Mommy and daddy are right here. You have nothing to worry about, Johnny."

John stood in the doorway, watching the interaction between mother and child. He felt oddly like a third wheel although the woman was his wife and the child was his son. He let his gaze wander over Moira as she leaned over the crib. The green t-shirt she wore rose up a little, giving him a glimpse of her bare back. The khaki pants hugged her rear with delicious exactness. "Is he okay? You're saying he can sense the, the Wraith?" he asked, coming to stand right behind her. "Is that what you are saying?"

His sudden proximity startled Moira and she straightened, bumping into him. "Yes."

He scowled at the brevity of her answer. He looked over her shoulder at the sleeping infant. "And?" he asked, voice low, impatient. His body brushed along hers.

"Every time we were in that one lab he would get all fussy and upset. It was the only place that upset him and I couldn't figure out why. Until today when he was bawling and bawling because Carson was, was moving that thing to another floor!"

"Sorry," John said, touching her hips and subtly aligning her rear along his crotch. Her anger was arousing him and he pondered how to direct that mood to a more passionate one. "I had no idea it would affect him like that. Nor did Carson."

"That's no excuse for not telling me!" she flared, but calmed her voice and expression as the baby stirred. "Go to sleep, darling." Moira tried to ignore her husband's intimate proximity. She stroked the baby's arm.

"How?" John asked in a low voice. He looked at his son. The baby was sleeping peacefully, unperturbed by the argument between his parents. His little eyes were closed. His little mouth was open as he softly snorted, then sucked at nothing. His little hands were curled around the edges of his blue blanket.

"I'm not sure. I think it may to do with the double ATA gene…or, or something else. Something in his DNA. When we, when we were fed upon and that enzyme entered us it had to have some kind of biochemical reaction. And then when we were subjected to that process again, twice over, it had to have some kind of chemical interaction. I'm not sure. I only know that he senses that, that thing and it makes him unhappy. It scares him, John. When the Wraith are in the same building with him he can sense them and he gets scared. So, so do I," she softly admitted.

"Sorry," John repeated quietly. "I will have it removed from the premises ASAP, sweetheart, I promise. You should confer with Carson."

"Gee, ya think?" she snapped. She adjusted the blue blanket around the sleeping baby. "I will, once I'm not pissed at him anymore."

John smirked. Her anger and her tone were only exciting the lower regions of his body. "Are you still pissed at me, baby?" he asked into her ear. He ran his tongue along her earlobe.

Moira shifted, reacting to the abrasive feel of his stubble on her skin and to the warm wetness of his tongue. She moved, colliding with his very interested cock as he was all but pressing into her rear now. Intentions none too subtle. "Yes!" she managed to snap at him, but her voice was breathless as a murmur was trapped in her throat.

"Good. I was hoping you would say that," he retorted. "Moira."

Moira whirled. "Move!" She shoved past John, furious.

John smiled as his cock jerked in his pants. He stepped to the crib. "Go to sleep, buddy. Daddy is about to do mommy real good."

"No, he's not!" Moira retorted from the other room, still angry, but also anticipating a more intimate reunion with her husband. She heard his footsteps as he entered the room. She continued talking. "We may have a much more serious problem than the Wraith, John. The speed of the sudden climatic changes is only accelerating and I have analyzed the existing data and found a startling correspondence to the prehistoric climate of Earth when there was only one land mass called Pangea!" The last word came out as an exclamation as John abruptly grabbed her rear and squeezed. "John!"

He laughed, freed her to spin her round to face him. He kissed her, causing her to drop the files she had been gathering in her hands. It was a long, deep, probing kiss as his tongue thoroughly invaded her mouth; much like his cock was yearning to do at a lower point on her anatomy. The kiss went on and on and on until Moira was forced to push at him in an effort to surface for air.

"John!" she squeaked, breathless, brown eyes wide. Her body reacted almost violently to his hunger, his need, his seduction.

He licked his lips, pressing himself to her, trapping her between his very aroused body and the hard table behind her. "Now, baby. Right fucking now," he growled.

She pushed at his chest but he was immovable. "Now? Whether I like it or not?" she teased, anticipating the sex almost as much as he was.

He smiled. "Yeah, but you'll like it, baby. Believe me. You will like it a lot."

The knocking woke Moira. She stirred, hearing the persistent noise at the door. She squirmed, finding herself pleasantly pinned under John. His warmth and weight enveloped her. "Just a second!" she called. "John? John. John!" She pushed, wriggling but he snorted, adjusting himself on top of her, still asleep. Their naked bodies entwined in repose under the blankets. "John, move! John!" she snapped, shoving at him, hitting his arm, his back.

John snorted again, but slid off her at last. Muttering under his breath as he all but buried his face in the pillows.

Moira smiled at his obstinacy, at the remembered pleasure of their bodies relentlessly joining, joining until at last they had succumbed to fatigue. She scrambled out of the bed and into her clothes. The baby began to fuss, disturbed at the noise. Shoving her hair behind her shoulders she moved to the door and cautiously opened it. "Oh." She stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her to preserve the privacy of both Johns.

Evan smiled, eying her unkempt appearance. "Sorry, Moira. I didn't mean to intrude but I can't find Sheppard anywhere so I figured he might be here. He was hell bent to see Woolsey and McKay but he hasn't spoken to them yet, and I was told he hadn't started his twenty-four."

"He hasn't, not yet, I mean…he, he was distracted by hearing Johnny and met us in the lab." She leaned against the door, hearing the baby's cries rise and then fall, then silence as he was tended by his father. "Was it important?"

"Yes, otherwise I wouldn't have intruded."

The door opened and Moira almost fell, but John's solid body was there to brace her. He was dressed, holding his son as the baby gurgled happily and held onto his father's black t-shirt. "What is it?" he asked gruffly, glancing at Moira and her hasty attire. A smirk came and went.

"You haven't spoken to them yet?"

"Not yet. I was distracted by other concerns. Then Moira came onto me and what's a guy to do?"

"John!" she flared, elbowing him. The baby chortled, as if he understood the joke. She smiled at the infant, kissed him, but grew somber. "This is about the negotiation with the Queen, isn't it?"

Both men exchanged a surprised glance, and then eyed her. "Yeah," John answered.

"You know about it?" Evan asked.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" John flared.

"When did I have the chance, detective? You were far too busy serving those multiple warrants!"

John grinned. "Oh. Yeah, I was."

Moira turned from him to Evan who was eying one, then the other with baffled amusement. "Sorry. Yes, it's the talk of the base…in fact Woolsey's heading up the committee to try to convince the President not to concede. But there's worse."

"Worse?" Both men asked at the same time, glancing at each other.

Moira nodded as the baby prattled, oblivious. "Yes. They're talking about a truce."


	4. Chapter 4

Vegas: Conquest4

"_And all our yesterdays have lighted fools, The way to dusty death."_

"Now what? Please tell me there is a back way out of here!" Moira demands, staring at the blocked stairwell. Muffled booms can be heard above them and the earth resumes shaking, shaking as if trapped in a giant fist.

"There is. This way." Rodney is oddly calm as he leads her down the hallway, down yet another flight of stairs. The emergency lights flicker and static breaks from the speakers. Whatever the dire announcement is it cannot be heard now. "Here. Tunnel Two. It will lead up to the surface and then to…go!" Suddenly he shoves her towards the door, whirling and dropping to one knee to fire a gun.

Moira does not hesitate. She yanks open the door and is swallowed by utter darkness, dankness. The walls are narrow and earthen; there is no man-made construction visible here. "Rodney!" she calls, loath to leave him, yet knowing she must because she is pregnant and that has to be her first consideration now. "Rodney!"

Suddenly he appears, whirling to slam the door shut. "Go, go! GO!" he bellows and she races ahead of him, stumbling in the darkness. Rodney follows on her heels, touching the close walls to steady himself as his shoes slip and slide on the uneven terrain.

The tunnel begins to ascend. It is dark and dank and the ground is trembling again under their feet. The dirt walls shake and seem to grow closer, closer, as if to enclose them in an early grave. Moira feels a rush of panic but quells it, thinking of John, how he would be waiting for her and she awkwardly climbs the steep ascent. Rodney follows, also combatting a wave of claustrophobia. He begins plotting complicated mathematical equations in his head and this calms him, centers him.

Moira reaches a door after almost smacking into it. She grasps the wheel-like handle and tries to turn it but the mechanism is old and rusty. "Here! Help me!"

Rodney sidesteps and grabs the other side. Together they pull and pull and the gears groan as if awakening from a long slumber. The creaking is loud, but the noises in the tunnel behind them are louder. Grunts and the sound of lasers that shine green light along the walls, disrupting more of the dirt.

"The self-destruct?" Moira asks.

"We're not clear," Rodney answers through gritted teeth, guessing her question. At last the wheel turns and spins abruptly. Rodney hauls open the door and pushes Moira through the threshold. Onto the surface of the desert.

The hot sun glares, blinding Moira as she stumbles across the dry dirt. She turns to see Rodney following after her. "Where—" An exchange of gunfire interrupts her and she dives into the scrub with Rodney.

They have emerged onto a battlefield.

John stands in the makeshift control center of the makeshift airbase. He is hundreds of miles away from Nellis AFB; hundreds of miles from anywhere. "Status?" He barks the question, arms folded across his chest. The flight suit he wears is dingy and dirty but he feels oddly right at home in it.

"Blue squadron's gone. Yellow's at half. Green has gone to cover Nellis."

"Shit," John says, glancing at the assortment of weary men and women fighting a war they have no hope of winning. They keep fighting nonetheless. "Any word from McKay?"

"Facility's been hit, sir. Just receiving initial damage reports. Caldwell is engaging the enemy. Reports of infiltration. The base has been compromised," the man reported, eyes wide as he holds a pair of headphones to his ears. "Self-destruct has been activated."

"I'm sure they got out in time," Evan reasons, seeing John's stare into nothing as he absorbs the information.

"Get me a visual. Now!" John orders. The man spins to a computer monitor and begins to type commands. The screen is grainy, the images shaking under the tumult of the assault and the weakening signal.

The facility is still intact, but the building is surrounded by Wraith. Big, brawny Drone soldiers are entering, retreating, standing guard as the more evolved Wraith invade the facility. There is no sound to the feed but the visuals are bad enough. Cars in the parking lot are destroyed, a few on fire, and John is glad that his own car is parked in the city.

The camera blinks, then pans to one side of the facility. There is a gun battle, lines of marines firing on a line of Wraith, with a horrid expanse of dead bodies between them. It is a no man's land where the scrub is sprayed red with blood and burned by the ferocious assault of lasers and bullets. There are a few figures moving in that disastrous place and John could only hope they would have the sense to keep down until the battle was finished.

Suddenly there is a flash of light that blinds the camera. It goes dark. Quickly the man swerves to find another feed, but he is having difficulty and begins to sweat under John's unrelenting scowl.

"What the hell was that?" Evan asks, but he already knows by the twisting in his gut. He swallows but his mouth is dry, his throat is dry.

John shakes his head, unable to answer, thoughts focused on his Moira and the unborn child she is carrying. His child. His pursed lips hold in his emotion as he glares at the blank screen, impatiently waiting for a feed but he already knows what the camera will reveal.

He clenches his hands into fists as he waits. And waits.

And waits.

"Stay down!" Rodney hisses, shoving Moira to the dirt. Lasers fire above them and next to them a Wraith body moves, not quite dead. Rodney stares at his watch. "Five."

"Rodney, if we don't move now we'll be pulverized out here!" Moira argues, scrunching into the dirt as bullets fly above her head. She scoots, scoots away from the Wraith, feeling a cold revulsion as its feeding hand inches towards her. She vows to herself she would rather die than go through that again. "Rodney!"

"Four. We will be safe here when it blows, so don't move, damn it!" he argues, catching her arm and detaining her escape.

"We'll be shot to death out here, or worse!" she argues, pulling free only to slide into a dead body. She pulls back from the soldier, sickened and scoots back to Rodney. "We—"

"Three. Keep your head down and cover your eyes."

"What? The…oh shit!" Moira lurches to her knees as the injured Wraith is suddenly standing over them, suddenly reaching to attack, to feed. She covers her abdomen protectively, as if she can shield the unborn child from what is to come. Pure fear makes her scramble backwards and a bullet barely misses her.

Rodney pulls Moira to the ground. "Two! One! Stay down!" he shouts, but his voice is drowned out by a massive explosion. It turns the sky bright yellow and obliterates everything in its path, including the Wraith which is blown away by the shock wave. Rodney hides his face in his hands, hopes that Moira is doing the same as she is sprawled face first next to him.

Several more explosions rend the air, and a thick smoke curls into the hot, desert sky. The ground rumbles violently, as if would upheave the underground labs. Things are flying into the air and crashing around them. Cars. Vans. Computer consoles. Heavy equipment. Bodies.

Then there is silence.

Stillness.

The monitor blinks to life. Revealing a large, gaping hole where the facility used to be. It is a huge, black hole in the center of the desert, surrounded by destruction and fires and bodies.

So many bodies littering the desert like leaves.

There is so much destruction the facility has all but been eliminated.

Everyone holds their breath, holds their words as they all stare at John. Waiting for his orders, his words. He is silent, staring at the monitor.

Until without a word he spins on his heels and walks out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Vegas: Conquest5

"_Out, out brief candle!"_

John slammed his palm on the table. "What the fuck, er fudge is this I'm hearing?" he demanded, voice low and gruff. He glanced at his son. The baby was secure in his mother's arms, staring at his father with a grin, as if he had enjoyed the swear word slipping out.

"Woolsey's trying to head it off, John, but it's already too late," Rodney answered. He sounded resigned. He switched on the television. There were only a few channels still broadcasting. The image was grainy. Lines waved across it. A woman sat at a news desk, her expression grim as she read from a piece of paper instead of from the teleprompter. Behind her was a smaller image of a Hive ship high in the atmosphere above the United States.

Her voice was droning on about a peace settlement with the alien invaders and an end to the culling. She suggested the possibility of co-existence but even she knew it was a lie as her tone wavered over the words. The picture changed behind her to a government building. It was a white, formal structure with stairs and columns and a dome of pure gold that shone in the sunlight. It was the state capital building of Denver. The new seat of the federal government.

The picture wavered, pulling back to see lines of people surrounding the building. Some were cheering, some were protesting. Banners waved. Signs were uplifted against the blue, blue sky. A phalanx of military vehicles was parked on the streets. Soldiers were positioned along with police. Guns trained on the crowd, on the sky.

"Are they actually meeting with this, this Queen?" John asked.

"No. They will be linked through an open channel I was told. Woolsey's supposed to give us a live feed when it happens. I slipped a little camera onto his briefcase, but I'm not sure he will remember to activate it." Rodney sounded doubtful. He switched off the television as the image began to fade, began to blur and the sound was lost. "We may have to switch to radios again for communication," he grumbled.

He mourned the loss of the more advanced technology. Life was so much easier with it.

"This is bullshit, Rodney, and you know it!" John flared, forgetting to censor himself. "The President thinks he can save more lives by this détente? That's bullshit!"

"John," Moira softly admonished, as she gently bounced the happy baby in her arms.

"What? It is and you damn well know…oh. Sorry." He shrugged, sheepishly eyed his son and his wife's narrowed gaze. "What? It's not like he's about to talk like that now, is he? He's not even talking at all, you know. He can't say dada much less swear like me."

"He will soon enough if you don't watch what you say," she rejoined.

"The facts are simple. The Wraith could wipe us out, just like that!" Carson snapped his fingers. "But they haven't yet. They don't want us annihilated. Just weakened and humbled so we are no longer a threat to them. Right now those Hive ships have more than enough to last them for several months."

"You mean humans. From the initial culling. Millions of people worldwide," John noted.

"They won't have to cull more humans for months now. With a new food source they will want to be sure not to overhunt their new territory. They could even place people into stasis for later, um, consumption…but with a planet below them teeming with life…"

"Why have freeze-dried when you can have fresh food?" Carson finished Moira's thought. The two exchanged a grim glance.

"They will want to bombard us into submission. They will want to make sure we can't combat them on their level of technology," Evan stated. "They want us alive, but not as a threat."

"Yes. The President is just trying to salvage what's left, I'm afraid. To buy us some breathing space. I was supposed to go along with Woolsey and Caldwell. So were you, John. A delegation to try to explain the severity of the situation and more importantly what these Wraith are and what they want. We are the only ones who have had any experience with them."

"They have what they want. A new feeding ground…richer than any by far," Moira noted dourly.

"Gaga goo gaga goo!" the baby prattled, reaching for his father.

John smiled at his son. "Dada," he corrected slowly, but his brow furrowed as he looked at Rodney. "What did you just say? We were all supposed to go?"

"So what do we do now? Stand down?" Evan asked, shaking his head.

"Yes, John, but I was needed here and you were still miles away. I'm sure Caldwell can handle the military aspects and Woolsey can handle the rest. Both know how dire the situation really is and should be able to convey that. To answer your question, Evan we do the same things we have been doing," Rodney decided. "Fighting the Wraith. Finding ways to eliminate them and their technology. Trying to predict the next global crisis and how long we have. Just another day to try to save the world." He ran a hand through his thinning hair. Sighed.

John glanced at Moira, recalling her words about an environmental crisis somehow relating to one in the distant past. He knew he should have been listening but had been more intent on other things. On sex. He let his gaze wander over her in remembered pleasure.

He mourned his past life as a detective. Things had been simpler then.

Moira scowled, seeing the sensual glint to his green eyes as he perused her. But a smile tugged at her lips as she returned the blatant appraisal. The baby cooed happily in her arms, but began to fuss, reaching out for his father again.

"What if we receive different orders from Caldwell?" Evan challenged, glad to hear the fight was still to be fought but concerned over how his military superiors might change their minds. He was trying to ignore the sudden intensity between John and Moira. Their gazes locked in mutual appreciation and flirtation. He tried to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"I'm not sure…" Rodney answered, shrugging. He seemed at a loss and looked to John.

"What about the SGC? Is the Stargate still active?" Carson asked.

"Yes, at the moment. So far the base is secure. As for their own advanced technology they used most of it in the initial defense of the planet. They are as hard-pressed as we are. John?" Rodney prompted.

"It's a failsafe, isn't it? The Stargate, I mean. To get the VIPs to safety if the whole planet does fall," Evan noted sourly. "Which leaves us holding the bag, doesn't it?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Carson agreed. Frowned. "They can't stop our research! We are close, close to finding a viable bio-toxin, and if we can locate more ZPMs and get that Chair up and running again—"

"But we are almost out of Drones so what could it fire at them?" Evan interrupted. "At this rate we could load it with rocks."

He mourned the loss of their superior weaponry. Life was simpler with better toys.

"That won't make a difference. We still have three Hive ships over the planet, and even if we somehow manage to take out one that will leave two. Still too many Wraith to combat," Moira argued. "It won't matter anyway if the plate tectonics keep erupting at this rate. If that subduction zone alters position it won't matter if the Wraith are here or not," she warned.

"And the President will be apprised of all of this by our delegation," Rodney assured. "Damn, er darn it, maybe I should have gone with them. John, what do you think? John?"

John was silent, still staring at his wife and his son as different thoughts were now coalescing. A sudden realization was hitting him hard as their words flew around him.

Moira stepped to him, recognizing the expression on his handsome face. It never boded well. It was a look she knew all too well and she felt her heart sink at the thought. "John?" she asked, concerned. The baby reached out a chubby hand and clumsily grasped his father's sleeve. Little face screwed in concentration as well. The baby sucked at his lower lip, big blue eyes solemn.

John looked at Rodney at last. "We need to evacuate. Now."


	6. Chapter 6

Vegas: Conquest6

"_Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,"_

The hotel is crowded. Not with tourists but with refugees. Everyone is gathered around a flickering television as the news shows images of the recent destruction. Not the near obliteration of the facility in the desert but the attack on the nation's capital. All eyes are glued to the horrific sight of the White House burning and collapsing to the ground.

"My God…" voices murmur as the infrastructure of the nation is gutted. DC is all but gone now, a smoking ruin of fires and craters and blackness.

"They wouldn't listen to us. At least the President and his Cabinet were evacuated," Rodney notes grimly. He is standing near the bar and downs a glass of liquor. He doesn't know what kind it is, only that it scorches the dryness out of his throat and soothes his voice. He is dusty, dirty, exhausted from the escape from the facility and wants only to fall into bed after a long, hot bath. But he remains on his feet.

Moira turns away from the destruction, appalled. She is weary as well, sore, bruised, battered but alive and assures herself the baby is fine too. She looks past the crowd to see John making his way through them, a grim expression on his face, part anxiety, part anger. "John! John, John, John!" she cries in utter relief. She pushes past people to reach him but they are an inexorable obstacle until suddenly John shoves them aside and she finds herself engulfed in his embrace.

"Moira," he says into her ear, hugging her tightly to him. Relief is a cold wash over his body. His stomach relaxes and his heart calms. He gently steps back a little to let his gaze run over her. "Are you okay? The baby?"

"We're fine. Rodney got us out. John…it's gone. The, the whole facility is…" Her brown eyes widen at the memory of the assault.

"I know." He hugs her to him again, looking round. Spotting Rodney at the bar he leads her to it, never loosening his grasp on her. He reaches the bar, nods gratefully as a beer is poured for him. He slides one arm away from Moira to grab the pint, to down it in long swallows. He licks his lips, sets the glass aside. He eyes Rodney. "The Bellagio?" he asks, quirking a brow.

Rodney smiles. "Hey, no one said we couldn't hide in comfort."

"Shit." John's gaze has moved to the television. The images of Washington, DC burning are still playing sporadically.

"Everyone got out in time. The Ancient tech and Wraith stuff is at the new facility already. Caldwell held the line until we were clear and the self-destruct took care of the rest," Rodney informs quietly. He grabs a handful of pretzels to munch, keeps talking. "We need to lay low here for a few days and then we can reconvene at the new place. Await further orders."

"Fine." John's gaze is glued to the screen as the images shift to what is left of the East Coast. Flooding has decimated the coastline and the population is scrambling to higher ground. Or what is left after the initial attacks by the Wraith invaders.

Moira ignores the images on the screen. Instead she keeps her gaze fixed on John. She finds security in his firm grasp, his solid warmth enveloping her and the unborn child she carries. "John?" she softly asks.

He meets her gaze. He draws her closer as he looks at Rodney. "Fine. We bunk here for a few then move out. Everyone is accounted for, you said?"

"Yes, mostly. We did suffer some casualties." Rodney eyes the empty glass on the counter. He pushes the bowl of pretzels aside. "Now is the time to quietly gather what you want, what you need from your homes. We won't be coming back to the city after this. Do you understand me?"

John nods. "Yes. We'll take care of it tomorrow."

"Wait, I don't understand. What do you mean?" Moira asks, looking from one to the other, but both men are locked in some silent, terse dialogue that she cannot interpret. "John? Rodney?"

"Moira, thank God!" Evan rushes to them, pauses seeing the odd intensity between the two men. "Are you all right? We saw the destruction and feared the worst!"

"I'm fine, Evan," she assures. She moves a little but John's hold is unrelenting. "Have a beer. How was it?" she asks.

Evan steps to the bar and smiles as a glass is filled for him. He downs the contents in greedy swallows. "Bad. I mean we hit 'em good, but there are just so damn many of them."

"Too many," John agrees dourly. He slides his hand to his glass again and finishes his beer. His other arm remains around Moira as if glued there.

"Where's Carson?" Evan asks, glancing round.

"He's at the new facility setting up the labs and tending to our wounded," Rodney answers. "He will be joining us here after that. Weir's in charge until we get there. Caldwell's mopping up the rest and Woolsey's in talks with the local officials. John, you may need to get LVPD involved in crowd control."

"I'm sure they already are," John replies. He looks at Moira. There are cuts along her cheek, an abrasion on her jaw. "Are you sure you're okay? Moira? I think we should have you checked out, just in case. You know." His gaze lowers to her abdomen, the concern unspoken.

"I'm fine, John, don't worry," she assures, blushing as all eyes are on her now. But only John knows she is pregnant and she feels a sudden queasiness at having to announce the fact, even to her friends, her colleagues. "Actually…I wouldn't mind lying down for a bit. And I could use a shower. So could you, Rodney."

"Yeah, I noticed that but was too much of a gentleman to say anything," John quips.

"Since when?" Moira asks. The men gently laugh at the comment.

"I'm sure we're pretty ripe too, Moira. Hey…these rooms are gratis, right? I mean I can't exactly afford this place," Evan states, glancing at the grand furnishings. The dancing fountains outside the building. Water sparkles in the sunlight, as if it was just another day in Vegas.

"We'll pick up the tab. We've reserved the eleventh floor. Let's go. I've got the key cards for each room. Oh….I…" Rodney hesitates suddenly, embarrassed. He looks at Moira, at John.  
>"I, um, I just assumed that you two would be, um, sharing a room?" His Canadian accent becomes more pronounced.<p>

John smiles. "Yeah, you got that right. And not just the room."

"John! Some gentleman." Moira extricates herself and grabs the bowl of pretzels. "Let's go, boys! I want a shower, a bed and then some food. In that order!"

"Wait, the eleventh floor? Are the elevators working?" Evan asks as the men begin to follow her through the throng of people.

"I'm not sure," Rodney admits.

"Crap. In that case let me grab another beer. Moira, hold up a sec!" John calls. "Moira, you forgot to add one thing more to that list!"

Moira turns to him, gaze narrowing. "Funny, John! I wasn't about to broadcast that, now was I? Get your damn beer and come on, or I will leave that off the list as well!"

John snorts in amusement. "The hell you will, baby. No I didn't mean that, sweetheart. Moira, you know what I meant!"

"I have no idea, John. Keep it in your pants, would ya?" she taunts, impatient as he hastens to the bar and grabs another pint of beer. "Sheppard!" she calls briskly, as Rodney and Evan chuckle over the argument. Both men head for the elevator, hoping it is operational.

"O'Meara!" he replies, amused at her ire. Aroused too as his pants are becoming tight. He feels an anticipatory thrill inundate him despite the severity of the situation. He saunters towards her as she stands, glaring, hands on her hips. He smiles. "We're getting married today, Moira! Today!"


	7. Chapter 7

Vegas: Conquest7

"_That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,"_

"You can't be serious, John! Evacuate the entire facility now? We just got here! Why?" Rodney declared angrily. The baby began to fuss at his uncle's raised tone, and Moira gently shushed him, kissing his brow and cuddling him.

"You think it's a feint," Carson realized.

John nodded. "Yeah. Think about it, Rodney! All the eggs in one basket, right? Except for us. And once they learn about our facility they will come here because we are the only viable threat to them!"

"Wait, what are you talking about?" asked Evan. "You think these negotiations are merely a ruse and the Wraith will attack?"

"No." Moira's soft voice drew all eyes to her and the baby, but she was looking at John. "You think the price of these negotiations is us. Our location. We're the only viable threat, as you said."

"You really believe our own government; the same government we are sworn to serve and protect would betray us?" Evan asked, disbelieving.

"That's ridiculous! Isn't it?" Rodney asked. The men exchanged glances.

"And the ATA gene," Carson noted. "Everyone in this room is a threat to them because of that. I'm surprised they haven't started rounding up people who have it."

Carson's grim words made Moira hug the baby to her. She stepped closer to John as he looked at his son. The child had a double ATA gene although few knew about it. And John was determined to keep it that way.

"Moy, pack all of our stuff now. Everything, especially whatever Johnny needs. We embark in twenty," John instructed, his voice gentle as his gaze met hers. He turned to Rodney. All warmth dissolved from his eyes. "We need a new place that only you know about it. Not Woolsey. Not Caldwell. Not anyone. And don't tell me there isn't one because I know you."

Rodney smiled. "There is one. I didn't want all of our eggs in one basket either. The Chair and the reconstituted Darts are there…plus a few other projects of mine."

"Reconstituted Darts? What the hell does that mean?" Evan wondered.

"Of course without a ZPM and Drones the Chair is useless and the ships are powerless."

"But you will find a way round that," John assured.

"So where is this place, then?" Carson asked.

"You'll learn soon enough. It's a facility I call Vulcan. You know, from Star Trek," Rodney said with a smile.

"No. It's now called Tatooine, from Star Wars," John decided. He turned to see Moira and the baby smiling at him. "Hey! Get that pert little ass moving, would ya? We embark in nineteen now! Go! Junior, get moving!"

The baby started to cry. "John! You know he hates that tone!" Moira scolded.

"Then get him outta here!" John rejoined. "Go!" Once she had left he eyed the men. "None of this leaves this room, got it? Gather what you need, what you want, supplies, equipment, whatever. We leave in nineteen. Rodney, with me."

"You know what you are suggesting, don't you?" Evan challenged. "You are starting a mutiny. Going against direct orders more than likely. We'll be listed as AWOL. We'll be seen as deserters, or traitors."

John held the other man's gaze. "I know. Got a problem with that, major?"

"No, colonel. Just making sure you know, is all."

"Then get moving." John gestured and walked with Rodney out of the room. "Everything Ancient is at this new place?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, more or less. Plus some other projects I have been working on to…well, I'll tell you there. Actually I need to talk to you about that, John."

"All right. Let's get packed up and out of here before anything happens." John scowled hearing his son wailing. "Shit. Now what?"

"You better see what's wrong with the kid."

Moira was in a maelstrom of luggage and boxes and bags. She moved quickly, packing their clothes, their belongings, the baby's things. It wasn't the first time they had had to move on short notice, and she wondered if it would ever be the last. In the midst of it all the baby sat in his playpen, wailing and crying, little arms in the air, face ruddy as tears streamed down his cheeks. Moira ignored him.

"What the hell is going on here?" John snapped, entering the room. He strode to the playpen and lifted the infant. Instantly the baby hiccupped, stopped crying and began to prattle. Little hands clinging to his father's shirt.

"He wants you, John! That's all. He was having a fit because you broke routine and didn't start your twenty-four with him," Moira explained as she flung clothes into a suitcase and zipped it. "Can you grab his stroller? And what about his crib? We need to take that as well."

"I know. Don't worry. I'll have a team load all of this soon, okay? Once we're clear."

"Then either take care of your son or move that fine ass of yours and help me!" Moira suddenly burst into tears, plopping down on the bed in the middle of the mess.

"Whoa, whoa, baby, what's wrong?" John eyed his son. The infant eyed him, equally perplexed. He began to pout. John kissed the baby, set him into his playpen where he began to stubbornly fuss once more. John moved to his wife, sat next to her, shoving aside stuff. "Moy? Sweetheart, it will be all right, I promise. Okay?" He slid his arm around her but she pulled away from him, turned away to wipe her eyes and blow her nose.

"No! It will never be okay, John! How can we live like this? Moving from one underground bunker to another, always on the run! How can we raise a baby when we can't even establish roots anywhere? How can we be a, a family when you are God knows where doing God knows what and I never know if you are going to make it back to us each time?"

John pulled her into his arms as she turned to him. "Ssh," he soothed, kissing her brow. He looked at the baby who was watching, his little expression solemn, as if he couldn't decide whether to cry or to sulk. "Easy, junior, it's all right. Moira, I know how tough it is, but what choice do we have? Huh? We're at war if you hadn't noticed."

She sighed, pushed free of him, hands splayed on his chest, on his damp t-shirt. She met his gaze, glaring. "I know that! But you don't understand! You—"

"The only thing I understand is that I will do anything, anything to keep you and our son safe. And if that means moving every few months from one underground bunker to another then so be it. I don't care, as long as you and Johnny are safe and secure and hidden from the enemy."

Moira stared. His voice was low, gruff. Brooking no opposition, no conflict. As if he would give no quarter in this. His green eyes smoldered with intensity, with absolute conviction. She swallowed, feeling both trepidation and a thrill at his stern regard. His determined protection. "I…um…John?" She lowered her gaze. "Look, I know you are doing your best, and I know you have to go out there and fight and fly and all of that but I just…John…"

He lifted her face to his. Kissed her. A slow, soft motion of his lips across hers, gently easing her mouth open. A soothing kiss full of love with a hint of passion. He drew back from her, saw her startled reaction and smiled. "Moira. We can't live like other people. Hell, other people can't live like other people any more. It will get better, I promise. But right now we have to move to the new place. A much more secure place, okay? Rodney will come up with something to defeat the Wraith, and I will put it into play and destroy them. Okay?"

"Gaga gaga goo goo goo!" The baby demanded, smiling.

John looked over at his son. "Dada, junior. Get it right, would ya? And yeah, back at ya."


	8. Chapter 8

Vegas: Conquest8

"_And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury," _

Moira stares at John. His pronouncement has frozen everyone in the crowded lobby and all stare from him to her and back again. Even Evan and Rodney are staring, standing near the closed elevator doors. Even Carson who has just joined them and has walked in upon what appears to be an ordered proposal. "No."

"Excuse me?" John asks, as if he hadn't heard her but he had. The whole room had heard her.

Moira walks to him, glaring. "No! We are not! Why can't you get that through that thick, pretty skull of yours, Sheppard? Look around you, John!"

"I am," he replies, ignoring her sarcasm, "and there's a wedding chapel right here right now."

"John! The world's collapsing all around us and you want to get married?" Moira raises her hand as if to slap him. Instead she steps to Carson whose blue eyes are full of sympathy. "Can you believe this guy?"

"We're getting married today, Moira!" John snaps. He is angry at her. This repeated refusals rankling him. "You are mine, damn it, as is that baby you are carrying and both of you are going to bear my name!"

A gasp goes round the room at the sudden announcement of her pregnancy. Rodney stares, shocked. Evan stares, surprised. Both men rendered speechless by the sudden news.

Moira feels tears but her anger overrides them. "You bastard! How could you? There's no point, John! Look around you!" She gestures wildly around the lobby, as if it encompasses the whole world. "The world as we know it is over! What does it matter whose name we have as long as we are with you?"

"It does matter, damn it! Damn it, Moy, don't you want to marry me?" John flares, pissed that they are having this very private conversation with an audience.

"Yes, of course I do!"

"Then why—" he begins, exasperated.

"I won't be ordered like one of your damn marines, colonel! And don't you dare follow me because we are not sharing a room! Find your own fucking bed, colonel, because you won't be in mine! You fucking bastard! I hate you!" She whirls and exits the lobby for the stairwell.

"Moira! Damn it, Moira, get that pert little ass back here now! Moira!"

"John, shouting at her won't help," Carson says, shaking his head.

"What the fuck's wrong with her? Women!" he fumes. "She wants to marry me but won't? What the fuck is that about?"

"Have you asked her?" asks Carson in a calm, amused voice.

"Yes! You just heard me! I just—"

"No, John." Carson sighs. "I heard you order her. I heard you tell her. You didn't ask her. You have never asked her, have you? Do you know nothing of women?"

"I know all about women! She is just—"

"Come on!" Carson grabs his arm, all but hauls him towards a row of shops across from the hotel's lobby. "The first thing you need is a bouquet of roses. You need to apologize to her, and then you need a ring. Stupid man!"

"I just…huh? Carson, don't be ridiculous! We are in the middle of a war! I can't do all of that romantic crap!"

"Do you want to marry her or not?"

John sighs, shrugs and follows Carson into the row of shops, grousing under his breath all the way.

Rodney stares after them. "Moira's pregnant?" he asks the empty air. "How?"

"Do I really need to explain that to you, McKay?" quips Evan with a smirk. "Let's go to our rooms, okay? After all of that domestic drama I really, really need a beer."

John wishes he had a beer. Maybe two. Maybe even three. He feels like an idiot as he carries a bouquet of rich red roses in one hand. He climbs the stairs, ignoring the smiles and curious looks of people he passes. He has shaved. He has showered. He has on a simple white shirt and a pair of black jeans but the clothes are clean and not too wrinkled for a change. He feels the small box in his pocket which contains a modest but lovely little ring. The box thumps against his thigh with every step he takes, as if to constantly remind him or nag him about what he has to do.

He curses the obstinacy of women over and over in his mind as he marches up the stairs, then down the hallway to the room he should be sharing with Moira. The room he is determined to share with Moira whether she likes it or not. He smiles at the salacious ways he will discipline her later this evening.

Once all the romantic crap is over and done, that is.

He pauses at the door. Shifts the roses to his other hand. He knocks. Knocks again, receiving no answer. "Moira? Moira, open the door. It's me. John. Obviously. Moira!"

Moira stands near the door, staring at it. She is torn between amusement and anger. She can hear his irate, exasperated tone. There is something else there in his voice she cannot identify. "Find your own room, John!"

"No. This is my room, damn it! Moira!" He pounds the door with his fist suddenly. Tiring of it all. Only wanting to fall into bed with her and be done with it all. "I will shoot this fucking door open if I have to, baby, so you may as well open the fucking thing now!"

Moira turns the knob, opens the door an inch. "Fine." She turns and walks away from the door as John pushes it open and enters. "This subject is closed, all right, John? And just so you know the, the baby is fine. I used one of those Ancient scanners and he is fine, so stop fussing, would ya? As for the rest…" She pauses, standing at the window to stare upon the oddly dark Vegas night. The Strip is barren of its neon lights and appears naked, forlorn. Just another city lost in the desert sands. "It doesn't matter, John. None of this matters. Why can't you see that?"

John closes the door, gaze perusing her. She smells fresh from the shower. Her long hair is damp and trailing down her back. She has on an olive green t-shirt that reaches to her thighs and he wildly wonders if she is naked underneath it. His body stirs at the thought. "It does matter, Moira. Because you matter to me. Our baby matters to me. Nothing else does. Nothing else ever will, not like this."

She turns at his serious, quiet voice. She stares. Brown eyes widening at the sight of him in black and white, cleaned up and solemn. The red roses he holds are startling. They are a vivid burst of color against the monochrome of his clothes. "John?"

He steps to her. He silently hands her the roses. She takes them. Breathes in their perfume and sets them aside, frowning in worry, in wonder. "Sorry." He moves to one knee and she gasps, her breath catching in her throat. Before she can protest or harangue or refuse he yanks the little box from his pocket. He opens it, revealing the little gold ring with the little diamond sparkling in the circular setting. "Moira O'Meara, I love you. Even before you were pregnant I wanted you as my wife. So…will you marry me, Moira?"

Moira stares, silent. Her heart thudding so loudly she is certain John can hear it. Her stomach fluttering so violently she fears the baby may be upset by it. John's beautiful green eyes are locked with hers. His handsome face is solemn, stern. But a glimmer of amusement tugs his full, perfect lips. A hint of passion warms his gaze. He licks his lips, suddenly nervous at her continued silence and she stares in sensual longing.

"Moy?" he prompts quietly. "Will you marry me?" he asks, frowning at having to repeat the question.

She smiles. Holds out her left hand. He smiles. He slides the ring onto her fourth finger. "Yes, John. I will marry you. Took you long enough to ask, didn't it, detective?"


	9. Chapter 9

Vegas: Conquest9

"_Signifying nothing."_

They are miles from anywhere. In the middle of the God-forsaken desert, yet in reality it is a short drive to the nearest town. But you would never know it from the expanse of desert and hills surrounding them, enclosing them in a virtual fortress of abandoned buildings and desiccated vegetation.

It is an old, abandoned complex. So old it is not even listed on most maps anymore. A series of Cold War bunkers underground and aboveground. Not far from an old nuclear testing site but Rodney assures everyone it is perfectly safe. The radiation levels are negligible and they are miles from the test site anyway. Nevertheless John makes absolutely certain before letting his wife and his infant son settle into a set a rooms in the complex.

Although old the facility has been updated and functions at a higher level of technology than most of what is left of the other facilities. Rodney has been tinkering and keeping the computers running, the satellites running, the security systems running. Elizabeth Weir has been charged with more mundane tasks and has made sure that the electricity runs, the water runs, the air works and the marines are on constant guard, just in case.

The walls are soundproof. Shielded from radiation and also from any scans. Rodney assures them the place is undetectable. John wants to be convinced but he is still on alert, still not trusting when the safety of his wife and son are involved. Moira is just glad that the place is clean and safe, for now. She is glad that the Wraith known as Todd is not with them.

Or rather what is left of him.

Horrifically the corpse is still alive on some level that even Carson cannot explain or understand. It is locked away in another facility miles from this one. It is close enough for continued experimentation but far enough that John's son won't be disturbed by its presence. Somehow the baby can sense the Wraith and although this is an asset to the team it is also alarming.

As is the fact that the baby has a double ATA gene all by himself.

It is a curious position the team finds themselves in, being on the run and possibly viewed as traitors. They are the only defense that Earth has, yet they must run and hide and rely completely upon themselves, for now.

Meanwhile life goes on as it always does. Vegas may not be the center of neon lights and sin anymore but it still offers an escape. All the vices are still on the table, just now under watchful eyes. The watchful eyes of an alien species that happens to prey upon human beings and is effectively in charge of most of the planet. They will allow societies and countries to continue undisturbed, but only to point. If any threat is detected they will be beaten back and down, or worse have their entire populations culled for food.

Governments will rise and fall. Battles will continue to be fought and lost. But life will continue, even altered as it by these circumstances. The Wraith don't want to exterminate the entire human species. They only want to exterminate those who are a threat to them.

Those with the ATA gene in particular.

All of these musings and more fill John's mind as he can finally take a break from the madness of moving, of settling, of ordering and making damn sure that the little band is safe, for now. Confident that all is well he can allow himself a brief respite from his unending diligence.

He walked along the dismal corridors, hearing the echo of his own boots as he strolls. His long strides take him along the facility, past locked labs and sleeping quarters. He moves past the precious armory and the even more precious underground hangars where ships are hidden. He climbed the stairs and passed alert sentries. He ducked under low hanging lights and their amber beams crisscross his long, lean form as he strides along, checking that everything is in order. Checking that everything is under lock and key.

Checking that everything is safe and secure. For now.

He relaxed a little, only a little as he reached the cafeteria and secured himself a beer from the refrigerator.

John sat back, nursing his beer. He rubbed his eyes, looking around the deserted cafeteria. It was quiet. The room was cast in long shadows. Back in his rooms his wife and his son were peacefully asleep, exhausted from the move and arranging everything to their satisfaction; well, to Moira's satisfaction. John smiled, recalling her bad mood, which he had quickly turned to a very satisfying sexual advantage for both of them. Twice.

"John? Can't sleep?" Rodney sat across from him, sipping from a cup of coffee."

"Yeah. Too quiet."

"I know." The men share a quick smile, shrug.

Both men drink their respective beverages, in a companionable silence. John's thoughts drifting back to Moira again, to their sexual pleasure. Rodney thinks of the facility and all that still needs to be done. With a sigh he runs a hand through his thinning hair.

"Moira and the kid are settled in?"

"Yeah. Both out like a light. Any word?"

"No. The last I could find was that the negotiations has stalled. Then nothing. I don't know if the sat-link is down, or was shot out of the sky. For all we know the Wraith attacked, like you suggested. Maybe they even went after our facility. I will try to access some feeds tomorrow. Weir and Lorne want to try a recon. What do you think?"

"I think that's a good idea, as long as they are careful. We can't spare the manpower, though. We have to be extra mindful of our limited resources." John drank some beer, brooding. "Rodney, it's just us now. Do you really think we can win this thing?"

Rodney set down his coffee cup. He sighed. "Honestly? No. Do you?"

"No."

The two men drank their respective beverages, lost in silence. In their dour prognostications. The only sound was the quiet whir of the air conditioner, circulating and cooling the air throughout the building. Above them the desert heat reigned, scorching the earth, although at night the temperature dramatically fell and was oddly getting colder and colder.

Earthquakes were becoming more frequent as well.

"Not without help."

John blinked. Rodney's voice had intruded on his own gloomy thoughts. He straightened in his seat, eying his friend. "Come again?"

Rodney glanced round although both men were quite alone in the abandoned room. There were no listening devices to eavesdrop. "A few things I've been working on, in secret."

"The reconstituted Darts?"

"Yes, for one. I think I can get one to fly, with an Ancient interface that can translate Wraith into English so the pilot can control the ship, to a point. The controls are pretty basic and since the thing is partly organic it's not like it needs gas or anything."

"With the right payload we could shove a bomb down their throats and take out a Hive ship. Maybe." John rubbed his chin. "We'd need a butt load of nukes, or naquadah. The SGC would help, I'm certain of that. They won't fall for any of this bullshit." He paused, frowning. "But it would be a veritable suicide mission."

"That's the problem. Who's going to volunteer for that?" he wondered, shaking his head.

John shrugged. "We'll find someone. If you can get that bird in the air I will find a pilot for it. I wish we had more Drones for the damn Chair. Can you rig that thing with some other weapon?"

"I can try…but I don't think we have anything comparable to that."

"Oh. That's not one of the projects you are working on?"

"No." Rodney looked round the empty room. "There's something else, John. Another option." Rodney leaned close. "I think we need help from the other reality. I want to open the rift again."


End file.
